


brought us this far & we'll do what we can

by spock



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 01, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 01:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17416352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: “You know what else starts withB, don’t you?” Eric asks, sounding far too pleased for Adam's liking.Adam thinks about it. He’s always fucking hated riddles. Freshly changed, he sits back down on his mattress and picks up his phone, bringing both himself and Eric back into view. “Buttbuddies?” he guesses.





	brought us this far & we'll do what we can

**Author's Note:**

  * For [milkandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkandhoney/gifts).



The boy Adam’s set to room with takes one look at him and doesn’t seem overly impressed, even though Adam’s got at least a stone and a few centimeters on him. Adam’s never been at a school where he wasn’t the biggest asshole around, so at least this place will give him some amount of novelty in that regard. One of the beds is clearly unlived in and Adam takes that it’s his.

“Alright?” the boy asks. Adam grunts at him as he crosses the room. “I’m —”

“Don’t care.” Adam drops his bag onto the bed and pokes at the uniform laid out on the foot of it.

 

* * *

 

A letter’s sat on his pillow when he gets back to the room after his first full day's worth of lessons. It’s been opened, a clean cut through the top, likely by the staff. Adam frowns and checks the address.

It’s from Eric. He smiles at the envelope once he sees that, glad that his roommate isn’t in to catch him mooning. The boy’s off somewhere with his friends, something Adam likely wouldn’t have even if he hadn’t transferred in mid-term, if his time at Moordale is anything to judge by. Eventually he realizes that he should probably read the damn thing.

Eric’s written to tell him about how it’s weird to finally have a chance to eat the lunches his mum’s packed for him, after all this time. How they aren’t actually altogether _good_ , and that he wonders why Adam kept going through all the trouble of risking ABH charges to take them from Eric over the years when the lunches the school provides are much better.

 _Although_ , the letter says, _I suppose I do know, now_. Adam rolls his eyes and wishes quite desperately that he could still catch Eric in the hallway and give him a good smack.

He’s signed the thing _Eric xx_ in looping script, with a different pen than he’d used to write the rest. Underneath that he’s written his phone number, the digits printed nice and neat.

Adam’s mum hasn’t even written to him yet. For it to have gotten here so promptly Eric must have posted it not two days after Adam had been shunted off for good. Adam doesn’t even know how Eric discovered that he’d been sent to Mountview, nevermind the address of the school.

He addresses a note with the school’s letterhead to _Tromboner_ , and writes to tell Eric that they aren’t allowed to turn their phones on until the weekend, and Adam isn’t about to risk losing it for the rest of his sentence here just for a chat with the likes of Eric. They can talk Friday evening, though, if Eric wants. He has to rifle through his roommate's desk to find an envelope, but he manages to dig one up.

Adam wakes up early before lessons the next morning and drops his reply into the box in the front office, seeing that it’ll be posted first thing with the rest of the day’s mail. He isn’t even sure that the damn thing will reach Eric before the end of the week comes, but it feels good to write to somebody anyway. To have someone write to him.

 

* * *

 

His roommate has learned rather quickly that Adam is what can only generously be categorized as _aggressive_. It doesn’t take much to get him to clear out of their room after lessons on Friday. Adam glares at him as he leaves for the evening — closing the door firmly behind himself just as Adam’s shouted after him to do — and then drops down onto his bed to power on his phone for the first time this week.

There isn’t a single notification waiting for him, no missed calls or SMS. All the e-mails in his inbox are adverts and spam. It’s depressing, is what it is.

Adam opens up the phone app and types in Eric’s number. He doesn’t have to reference the letter; he’s kicked the digits around in his head enough the past few days that they’re suitably memorized, god help him. He stares at his phone, waiting for the clock on top to roll over into the next minute before he’s willing to tap the green button to ring him.

Eric picks up right away. “I’m gonna hang up and then call you right back on Facetime, yeah?” he says, and then the line drops before Adam can bother to answer.

He lowers the phone away from his ear and into his lap, waiting. When the call comes in, it’s with the weird grey default background that’s flashing onto his screen. He hasn’t added Eric to his contacts, hasn’t got a photo for him. Adam should probably do something about that, eventually. If this becomes a thing, or whatever. It’d be easier to get one of Eric if they were still at the same school and Adam could sneak it of him. He’d rather choke on his own dick than stoop so low as to ask Eric to send one. Besides, Eric’s the type to have an Instagram loaded with selfies that Adam could pilfer from. For contact photos and — other things.

He swipes his thumb across the screen and Eric’s face blinks into view at his lap. “Hello, soldier,” he says, sounding disgustingly chipper. He’s got on a soft looking jumper in a shade of red that compliments his skin well, fabric looking something like velvet. There’s a towel around his neck and his hair has water beading on it. Adam hasn’t ever seen him look like this. Cozy, domestic. It makes him feel mildly uncomfortable, like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t, like the time Eric had come to school all beat up and depressed, and yet Adam wouldn’t stand it if someone else has ever seen Eric like this, too greedy and jealous of the view.

“You just take a shower or summat?” Adam asks, just to have something to say.

“What?” Eric scoffs. “Shut up.”

Adam stares at him through the phone. Eric is so fucking weird, and Adam doesn’t think he’ll ever get what makes that mind of his tick.

Eric pulls a face at him and says, “Alright, yes, fine, if you must know. Some of us still have detention to serve, and it’s sweaty work even if I’m not coppin’ off.” The light in his bedroom is good, bright, and the camera picks up the way Eric’s cheeks go purple.

“Right,” Adam says. He wonders if maybe he should have taken one too. He’s still got on the stupid dress uniform they make everyone wear here, the first few buttons undone and his shirt pulled out from the waist of his trousers, shoes kicked off under the bed, feet left only in his socks.

“Right,” Eric echoes. “Anyway you look,” he doesn’t bother hiding the way that his eyes are trying to devour Adam through the phone. Eric’s always been like that. _Obvious_. It doesn't bother Adam. If anything, it’s nothing if not gratifying. “Well, that uniform sure is full on, isn’t it.”

Well. Adam hunches in on himself and says, “I’m well aware that I look like a tosser. I have got a mirror, thanks.”

“No!” Eric shakes his head. “Love a man in uniform, me. You look great, really. Amazing, even!”

Adam’s never had it in him to blush, but he can’t exactly keep himself from smirking a little. “Whatever,” he says. “So, you gonna get your cock out or what?”

Eric laughs, exaggerated like he thinks Adam’s joking. Adam stares at him until Eric stops. “What?” he asks. “ _Really_?”

“Why in the fuck else would we need to Facetime?” It’s impossible Eric is this stupid; Adam’s copied over his shoulder before and had the results come back fine. “It was your idea,” he stresses. Adam would have been happy with a phone call, probably, even if he likely would have played with himself in secret while Eric blathered on about fashion or makeup or whatever.

“Well, how was I supposed to know!” Eric rolls his eyes and then the video upends and turns shakey as Eric carries it with him around his room. “Maybe I just wanted to see your stupid face, entirely chaste.”

Adam hasn’t the faintest idea what chaste means, but he likes the sound of it coming from Eric’s mouth. He licks his lips and undoes the button on his uniform trousers. Whatever Eric’s been fetching, he’s now placed on the bed and propped his phone against it. His hands drop down to the waist of the leisure trousers he’s got on, a match for his jumper. His eyes dart nervously over to something Adam can’t see as he undoes the string on them.

“Alright, then, you fuckin’ nancy,” Adam says, “I’ll try to make sure you can see it behind my massive dick, how’s that?”

Eric stills. “Wait,” he says, “I actually am quite keen to see your face while we do this, otherwise it’s no different from a Pornhub wank. Do you really think your cock will take up the whole screen?”

Something about the worry in Eric’s voice, the fact that he wants to see Adam’s face more than anything else, has Adam hard and aching, dick heavy between his legs even as it strains up towards his navel. Adam gives it a good squeeze. “I dunno,” he mumbles. He’s still holding his phone with his other hand; maybe he can prop it up against his thigh. “Never done this before, have I?”

Eric shakes his head and assures him, “Whatever, we’ll figure it out.” He’s got his own dick out and Adam can see it clearly through the screen, a hard thick line jutting up between his thighs. A few days ago Adam’d had it in his mouth, and it’d been the first time in his life sex had actually felt like what it was hyped up to be. He doesn’t know what that says about him, that taking care of someone else’s dick got him more worked up than sorting out his own, but he isn’t about to think about it now, too busy watching Eric nervously toy around with his foreskin, like he’s waiting for Adam's instruction.

Adam stretches his arm out as far as it’ll go and squints at the tiny window showing himself, trying to get both himself and his dick in the frame.

“Christ,” Eric says, voice coming out from the speaker whereabouts Adam's thighs, and isn’t that a thought. “It’s like a King Kong film.”

“I won’t be gone forever, you know,” Adam spits. “I can still fuck you up, someday.”

“It’s a compliment!” Eric shouts on a whisper. “Stop being so sensitive.”

“Will you start fucking wanking already?”

“Alright! Mr Romantic,” Eric says, making a face at him. He starts to stroke himself and the back of Adam's throat constricts as he watches. Adam’s wrist and arm always get tired if he jumps straight to that on himself, so he focuses on the head, slip-sliding his thumb over the glans and slit. “Fuck me, your cock is big.”

Adam knows it. The whole of Moordale does. Still, there’s something nice about Eric, specifically, knowing it, saying it, while they’re doing this. “Yeah?” he asks, though it isn’t a question. “I saw you go down on that banana, y’know. I think you’ll be fine.”

Eric licks his lips. “Can you,” he starts to ask, and then seems to think the better of it, before he rethinks that too. “Can you move the camera so it’s just your face?”

Adam’s hand stills on himself. “Um,” he says. “Alright.” He brings his arm back up so that his hand rests on his chest, his other restarting its movement, slipping down to the shaft of his dick, starting to stroke it, giving himself a distraction from the weird feeling twisting in his chest. The little box has his face centered in it. He meets Eric’s eyes through the phone screen. “Is this alright?” he asks.

Eric’s head bounces up and down. “Perfect,” he says.

Something goes a little wild in Adam's stomach. In his heart, maybe. He concentrates on the blur of Eric's hand flying over his dick, on the soft sounds he’s making. He’d taken off his bottoms and pants, meaning that Adam can see everything, the tensing of his thighs, the soft hair there that had felt nice and scratchy against Adam's cheeks when Adam had blown him. The more into it Eric gets, the more his leg starts to kick out a little over the side of his mattress, showing even more of himself to Adam.

“Fuck me,” Adam says. “You always spread your legs like that when you wank, or is it just for me?”

“Yes.” Eric’s nodding again. “I mean, yes, I always do this. Why?” he asks, turning a little bit sultry, that confidence of his rearing its head. “It doing something for you?”

“Just think it’s good you’re so naturally receptive for cock, is all, Tromboner.”

Eric’s moan sounds a bit like he’s being murdered. Adam quite enjoys it.

“Adam,” Eric begs. “Say my name.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Adam smiles at him, a little shy, mostly vicious. Eric’s always at his best when he’s riled up.

“Adam,” Eric’s got his serious voice going. “I'm literally giving you a front-row view of my asshole. Say my fucking name, you absolute prick.”

“Nah, you’re alright.” Adam’s close, is the thing. There’s nothing like winding Eric up, the way his pupils get small, the way his tone makes it clear he can’t decide between wanting to deck Adam and submitting to him. Even with the distance between them, it’s got Adam going just as much as when he’s right up in Eric’s face, their noses close and breath mixing between their mouths. Eric looks like he’s got something particularly vicious to say — or as vicious as he can be, anyway.

Adam’s ready for it, but then something shifts in Eric’s expression. “Adam,” he says. “You're gorgeous, do you know that?”

Adam shakes his head. “Shut up.”

“Totally gorgeous.” His laugh sounds more like a wheeze, and his breathing is rapid. “I’m about to come and I’m not even looking at your cock or ass or anything, just that marvelous face.”

“Eric, fuck off,” Adam grinds out, hating how close he is now too, just from the sweet bullshit Eric’s saying to him, even if he is just taking the piss.

Eric’s breathing goes high pitched, ragged. Adam watches as he comes, feeling detached from his own body and a one with Eric’s, transfixed as Eric wrings himself dry, the brightness of his come a shock against his skin. Adam can recall the taste of him, the feel of Eric swelling in his mouth as he came down the back of Adam’s throat.

Adam’s sucking in breaths through his open mouth, hand flying like a piston over his cock, so close. He wishes that he didn’t have to hold this fucking phone, could stand to have both of them working himself, one of them squeezing his balls, or playing with his nipple; maybe use it to touch Eric, fingers swiping at the mess Eric’s made and bringing it to his mouth, pulling Eric by his neck so that he can feed it back to Eric from his lips —

“Adam,” Eric says, and his voice is gentle, soft. “Fuck, your _face_.”

He hasn’t the faintest clue how he looks, but the otherwise appreciative way Eric says it, the way he’s practically whispered Adam's name like a prayer, has Adam shooting off into his hand like gangbusters. He’s never actually managed to catch what his jizz face looks like, eyes slamming shut once he’s gotten going. As embarrassed as he’d been at the thought of his father catching him, Adam’s never much minded what his partner’s thought of it. Now he hopes it isn’t too stupid, for Eric’s sake, after all the kind things he’s said about him.

When he opens his eyes he can see that Eric’s picked his phone back up and brought it close to him. The screen is nothing but his face, smiling sunnily. “Well that was brilliant,” he says.

Adam laughs and tries to calm his breathing, feeling sweaty and mildly claustrophobic. He hopes that he hasn’t gotten any of his spunk on his uniform trousers. He probably should have taken them off, as Eric had done, but he’d been too focused on the getting off to worry much about the aftermath.

He stares at Eric and tries to burn the memory of this into his mind, same as he’d done when they’d hooked up in detention. Adam’s had it made painfully clear to him that he’s not the sort that people want to be with over the long term. Eric’s funny and smart and kind, everything Adam isn’t, even if he is a total freak. Someone is bound to come around that catches Eric’s interest, that returns it, and Adam isn’t nieve enough to think it’ll be later rather than sooner. A big dick doesn’t exactly mean much when it’s long distance.

This time next week, Eric probably won’t even think to text, let alone keep going through the trouble of posting letters. Adam’s got to enjoy this while it lasts.

“So,” Eric says. “When will your parents have you home to visit? If it isn’t within the next month, I’ll take the bus to yours.”

Adam blinks. “What?” he asks.

Eric’s face gets a little guarded. “I won’t, like, show up in full drag or anything, you know. I can be nondescript. Won’t even paint my nails or anything.”

“I couldn’t give a toss if you did,” Adam says, still feeling lost. “You want to visit?”

“I literally said those exact words, Adam, please keep up.” Eric rolls his eyes. “So is it alright? Do they let you have visitors? Even prisoners get to have them.”

Adam doesn't know what to say. His stomach does this weird, flippy thing, and he can’t keep from smiling, just a little. “Yeah,” he says. “Dunno when though. I’ll put the dates and stuff in the next letter.”

Eric looks pleased. “Well, tells us how your first few days went, then.”

“I’m not going to tell you about my stupid day.” Adam sets the phone down and inspects his uniform. Most of the mess has landed on his stomach, where he had had the forethought to shove up his shirt and the vest he wore under it. Beyond his chesthair being dampened by his jizz, he’s largely unscathed. The rest of his come is starting to coagulate on his hand, which Adam makes a face at. He pulls off his shirts and uses the vest to wipe off his fingers and chest, walking over to his cupboard to change into his pajamas. He hasn’t got any other plans for the night beyond this, nowhere else to be.

“Oh come on, Adam,” Eric whines, disembodied voice rising up from Adam’s duvet. “We’re practically friends with benefits! Who else have you got to talk to? Remade ourselves into a social butterfly at Mountview, have we?”

Adam doesn’t want to think about how annoyingly well Eric knows him, especially given how most everything Adam knows about Eric applies to the physical, from his tendency towards makeup to the feel of his dick — and not much else. “We aren’t friends,” he says.

“True,” Eric agrees, sounding far too pleased about it for Adam’s liking. “Just benefits, then.” Eric’s quiet for a moment but then more words burst out of him. “You know what else starts with B, don’t you?”

Adam thinks about it. He’s always fucking hated riddles. Freshly changed, he sits back down on his mattress, and picks up his phone, bringing both himself and Eric back into view. “Buttbuddies?” he guesses.

Eric blinks. “Close enough,” he says. “Now stop being precious and tell me about your miserable day, you tragic git.”

**Author's Note:**

> entirely too invested™ in these two (it's so Gratifying when something you clocked from episode one comes into fruition); i can only hope that we get a second of many seasons, and that this pairing blows right up with all the content they deserve (ˊ̥̥̥̥̥ ³ ˋ̥̥̥̥̥)
> 
> thanks so much to **milkandhoney** for not only marathoning the show with me, but listening to my annoying voice memos and being just as obnoxious about all our favs.


End file.
